The little things.

Try to hold onto the little things, all the people say.
Hold onto them and all of the sleights and downsides will melt into nothing.
So we hold on and wait, cling to the small morsels of happiness we manage to accrue. The slings chip away at our small bastion dangling on a string and occasionally snip the string itself, sending us plummeting into the miasma of filth below.
Minds click and pop with questions always unanswered, a query often asked but never explained.
How could this be? How could this be all that it is? My little castle on a string grows with pride and the small joys, turrets reaching towards the eternally blue sky, so beautiful yet so far out of our grasp.
The castle gets too big and I manage to break the string myself, falling from the weight of too much hope.

Once a man build a castle in a swamp, it fell down so he build it again only to have it fall a second time. In defiance he built a third which sank so he build a fourth and that one stayed up.
Lucky man.
Probably very poor now though.